


It's the Last Time

by goingtothetardis



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Cussing, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Jimmy hits Rose off-screen, Non-Graphic Violence, Physical Abuse, Prompt Fic, Protective!Doctor, The Doctor gets furious, mentions of past physical abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-08
Updated: 2017-04-08
Packaged: 2018-10-16 08:59:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10567998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goingtothetardis/pseuds/goingtothetardis
Summary: The Doctor finds Rose during a non-savory encounter with her ex and takes care of the situation.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Okay. So this story came from an anonymous prompt on tumblr. Someone asked for "a blackeye or bruise on cheek," and this is what came of it. It's funny, because SelenaTerna and I were talking about Jimmy Stone a week or two ago and whether or not we thought he physically abused Rose. We both came to the conclusion that we can read both, so long as it's handled and written well. Jimmy is kind of a blank slate, and it's interesting (although painful) to consider the possibilities. 
> 
> To be honest, this was a bit challenging to write. I do not like even the thought of Rose being abused, but hopefully I managed to handle this particular moment with tact and accuracy according to their characters. 
> 
> Much thanks to SelenaTerna for the beta and help. 
> 
> Please let me know if I need to adjust my tags.

The Doctor frowns and counts the minutes in his head. Rose is thirteen minutes and fourteen seconds late returning to the TARDIS. Pacing restlessly around the console, he wonders if Rose would think him too clingy if he went back up to Jackie’s to wait for her. 

Better give it a few more minutes. Rose doesn’t need to know he’s just about useless without her by his side. 

Several minutes later, the Doctor glances at his watch, despite already knowing that Rose is now precisely twenty one minutes and forty seven seconds late. He stops pacing and sighs. There’s a little niggle somewhere in the back of his mind that reminds him she’d normally call if she’s decided to stay at Jackie’s a little longer. And earlier, she’d been quite excited to return to the TARDIS, as he’d promised her a day in a quaint little beach town with purple sand and pink skies. 

Or so he hopes. This daft incarnation doesn’t seem to be any good at driving his ship where he wants to go. 

Shaking his head, he focuses on the matter at hand. Deciding twenty minutes is an acceptable period of time to wait before going after someone, the Doctor nods decisively and strides quickly down the ramp and out of the TARDIS. 

For some reason, he’s drawn not to the stairs leading to Jackie’s flat, but rather to a deserted playground on the other side of the estate. It’s late afternoon, shortly before tea, but there’s still plenty of daylight left for him to see whether or not Rose is there. At first glance, it appears empty, but closing his eyes, he lets his advanced senses pick up on other details. 

Some distance away, down an alley, perhaps, there’s shouting. A man and a woman. A very familiar woman’s voice. 

_Rose._

He’s in motion before his eyes open, his body and mind processing the hundreds of pieces of information he’s analyzed in the last several seconds. Finding the alley, a tiny walk way cut between tall hedges to the playground on the opposite side of the concrete court, the Doctor increases his pace and reaches the area in no time. 

Rose cowers against the hedge, hands held up in a defensive position against some slimy bloke towering over her, whose hand is raised as if intended to strike her face.

_No._

A cold fury descends on him and rage clouds his vision. He’s moving before he knows it.

In two long strides, the Doctor has the wrist of the mystery man tight within his grip. He squeezes hard, inwardly pleased when he hears the man’s radius and ulna pop and snap. Without releasing his grip, the Doctor shoves him against the hedge opposite Rose, ignoring his cries of pain. 

His face is a stone mask, his tightly banked fury barely held in check. No one hurts Rose. No one. 

“I don’t know who the _fuck_ you think you are,” he pauses, shocked at the way the curse falls so easily from his mouth. “But if you _ever_ touch Rose Tyler – or any other woman – again, I _will_ make you suffer so much you’ll wish you’d never been born.” 

“I– Who the hell are you? Fuckin’ bitch owed me–” 

“No,” the Doctor growls, squeezing the man’s wrist harder until he’s screaming in agony. “She owes you _nothing_. _Nothing._ ” The Doctor breathes heavily, no longer able to keep his storm of emotions at bay. 

His grip tightens, eliciting another painful whimper from the man, but before he can do further harm, a gentle tug on his free arm distracts him. 

“Doctor, stop. He’s not worth it.” Rose’s voice is soft and firm, even as she trembles with fear and shock. 

At Rose’s voice, he freezes and instantly releases the arm of Rose’s attacker. The man cowers in fear for several long moments, and the Doctor holds his gaze all the while, his face dark and impassive. Finally, the man turns and scrambles away, gingerly holding his injured arm.

The Doctor closes his eyes and holds himself still. How had he lost himself to the darkness so quickly? And Rose bore witness to all of it – watched as he physically harmed another human being, heard him threaten another person with a fate worse than death. He can’t bear to look at her now – doesn’t deserve to look at her – as he’s so full of shame and regret. He’s just as bad as the despicable ape raising a hand against her. 

Slumping forward, the Doctor jumps when he feels Rose’s arm wrap around his. He freezes as her hand finds his but doesn’t resist when she threads their fingers together 

“Doctor,” she starts and pauses when there’s no response from him. She pulls on his hand gently, and he finally allows his eyes to flick briefly to hers. 

And his stomach turns to lead when he scans her face. 

There’s a bright red handprint on Rose’s cheek, one that will likely bruise without the medical interventions available on the TARDIS. Her mascara runs in blotchy lines around her eyes, but underneath the surface, there’s a certain fierceness that stubbornly persists. 

In an instant, his anger turns to shame and guilt. “Rose,” he breaths, “I’m so sorry.” Gently – oh so gently – he reaches out and runs his fingertips against Rose’s injured cheek. She winces slightly, tears pooling in her eyes, and he pulls his hand back for fear of hurting her further. 

“What’re you sorry for?” Rose’s forehead scrunches together in confusion, her face unnaturally pale.

“Rose, I– You shouldn’t have seen me like that. I just– I lost my mind when I saw him about to hit you, and–” 

She interrupts him, her voice wavering with emotion. “An’ you protected me. That’s it, Doctor. ‘S not the first time Jimmy’s hit me, but I know it’s the last, an’ that’s because of you.” Rose takes his hand, the one he’d injured Jimmy with minutes before, and squeezes it. Eyes ernest with feeling, she continues. “Thank you.”

The Doctor shakes his head, marveling at the woman standing in front of him. There she is, the one who’d been just beaten by an ex-something, giving _him_ words of comfort, somehow redeeming _his_ actions. He doesn’t deserve her. 

Unsure of what else to do, the Doctor pulls Rose close, careful to protect her face, and hugs her tightly. She relaxes into his embrace, and he feels the tension and fear seeping from her body as she winds her arms under his jacket and around his torso. 

They stand there together between the hedges for several long minutes, and the Doctor is content to simply be in the moment. There will be hard conversations to come, he knows, both of them bearing pieces of themselves, and he hopes Rose will tell her story when she’s ready. 

But now? Now it’s time to treat Rose like the treasure she is. The companion and friend and – and so much more. Things he’s not quite ready to put a name to yet. 

“Fancy a nice bit of salve for your face? An’ how about a movie night on the TARDIS? Your pick.” He tries to keep it light, attempts to casually move past the trauma of recent events.

Rose understands his intentions and pulls back to look at him with a smile – one not quite as bright as usual, but still a smile. “Thought time was relative on the TARDIS, Doctor?”

He chuckles half-heartedly, unable to find pure joy in the moment, and traces her untouched cheek with his fingers. Then, clasping hands, they walk back to the TARDIS.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr at goingtothetardis.tumblr.com!


End file.
